


Unasked

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mind Meld, Mind Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sybok messes up Jim’s head for a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unasked

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: An old request.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There are some small, minor things—the shape of his jaw or the curve of his brow—that are similar, but then there are so many other things that are just so _different_. If Jim hadn’t seen it, hadn’t felt it and _known_ it, he’d never believe this man in front of him to be Spock’s brother.

Half brother. It’s just as shocking. If Jim had known, he would’ve taken Spock in the landing party. He always takes Spock. He can’t even remember why he didn’t this time. He feels hung over. If Spock had been there, maybe Sybok wouldn’t have... wouldn’t have...

Jim shivers and turns away, ignoring the soothing, “I could ease your pain...”

The doors to the brig open, and Spock comes marching in, faster and tenser than usual, the way he always is when it’s _Jim_ that left—those subtle differences. He gets one look at the man behind the glass, and his steps falter. He doesn’t look surprised. Perhaps he discovered the truth of the riots while up on the bridge, or perhaps he’s just being Vulcan and not showing his cards. He walks right up to Jim and deliberately turns his shoulder to the cell. “Captain.”

Jim opens his mouth and reports more dully than usual, “The riots on Nimbus III aren’t going to be a problem anymore. We’ve got the instigator in custody.” He nods towards Sybok, who’s standing off the bench and strolling towards the glass, a mirror image of Spock, harder and with a dark beard, eyes wrinkled from emotion. Jim’s first instinct is to grab Spock and get the hell out of here.

“It’s been a long time, Spock,” Sybok says. He lifts his hand in the Vulcan greeting. Spock observes him neutrally, not reciprocating. But Jim knows Spock better than that, and he sees the odd spark of contempt beneath the blank look. “You’re in luck. I don’t even need to meld with you to know your pain; I’ve already had your _friend_...”

Jim thinks he’s going to be sick. He feels like a child, because he shouldn’t feel this uncomfortable and scared over something so simple, but he does. Spock says in a steely, level tone, “You know nothing of me. Whatever you took from the captain was not yours to take; your pride is undeserved.”

“I don’t do this for pride. Spock, if you will only let me—”

But Spock’s already turning away, grabbing Jim’s arm. Jim, still a little unsteady and odd and vulnerable, lets himself be taken. As they leave, Sybok calls, “You’re prisoners of your own minds!” Jim feels that way, now.

He’s a little shaky, and he lets Spock lead them all the way to the turbolift. As soon as the doors shut behind him, Jim says, “I don’t... I don’t want to go back to the bridge just yet. I think I need a lie down.”

Spock nods tightly. “Your quarters, then.” And his mouth stays open for a few seconds, as though he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. They’re alone, until an ensign gets on the next floor, then leaves the one after that. The whirring noise of movement is giving Jim a headache. His head’s _throbbing_. Vulcans and their mind games. Everything’s at the forefront, all the things he can usually handle...

“Did he—” Spock starts to ask, but the doors open and they’re there, the top floor. Jim starts walking immediately, over the hard floor and right past the bridge, towards the room at the end of the hallway. Spock hesitates to follow, but does, and good. Jim doesn’t want to be alone right now.

Jim should be alone right now. He should sit down and sort out his thoughts. But how is he supposed to sort this out without Spock? Spock, Spock. Fucking Sybok, coming in and stirring the pot, a pot that was fine and wasn’t boiling at all, but now curdles in his stomach like—

As soon as the doors close behind them, Jim barks, “Computer, lock the doors,” because no one else can see him like this. He finds the couch and throws himself onto it, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, head going to his hands. The cushions weigh down beside him: Spock.

“He mind melded with you,” Spock says dryly. Jim nods. He feels violated and disgusting for no good reason. When Spock, the other Spock, touched him, it wasn’t like this. That was communication. This was Sybok seeing every part of Jim there is or was to see, giving nothing in return and deliberately clawing out every tear Jim’s ever shed. All his troubles were pulled forward, and they’re still stewing there. Spock says quietly, “I... apologize, Captain. He should not have done that to you. It is not something Vulcans should employ without great need and never without consent.”

Jim mumbles, “S’not your fault,” and drops his hands. He glances at Spock, who’s sitting so close and looks like he thinks otherwise. Jim’s not sure if that’s making it worse. Spock’s all he can think about now. The thought of losing Spock in that volcano, and that one time in the shuttle, or seeing Spock across the view screen in a ship the target of phasers... or just the thought of Spock being _here_ but not close _enough_ , never close enough. Being someone else’s. Hating him, for a while. Then growing closer, being there for Jim on the other side of the glass when the radiation got to him, their hands touching through it, Spock there for him, but in another’s arms by the end of the night. Why did Sybok have to touch all that?

Spock breathes out heavily, like a restrained sigh. “I suppose you are aware that he is my... my half-brother.”

“Yeah,” Jim grunts. “That sucks.” Then he pauses and corrects, “I mean, I’m sorry I had to throw him in the brig, but—”

Spock shakes his head. “I would be disappointed if you had done anything else. As a child, he often spoke of... _emotions_ in ways no other Vulcan would. He has a particular interest in pain that is most disconcerting. To see him not only pursuing such a path but to be imposing it on others proves that he needs to be held in custody.”

“He ‘brought out my pain,’” Jim throws in, before he can stop himself. “And he did shit to fix it. Just left it stewing around in there, and now it’s all I can think about, and every time I close my eyes I...” Jim cuts off when he realizes he’s shaking, and he sucks in a breath and clenches his hands, then tries to relax again. He glances at Spock, who gives him a sympathetic look. It’s odd on Spock's face. An emotion he’d only show here.

Trying to be comforting.

Spock’s hand rises and lands on Jim’s knee, squeezing once, so quickly that Jim might’ve imagined it. He stares at Spock’s knuckles and long fingers, lingering there. It isn’t often that Spock touches him unprovoked. Maybe it’s Spock’s way of being there for him. It’s nice.

Jim puts his own hand over it so it can’t get away. Beneath his palm, Spock’s skin is warm.

“If there is anything I can do for you, Jim, please inform me.” Jim, not captain.

“Could another mind meld help?” Like, a positive to counterbalance a negative. But Spock shakes his head.

“It is a very intimate procedure. You would likely only feel more... violated.” He hesitates on the last word, like Jim won’t admit what he’s feeling. An intimate procedure. With Spock. But it’s probably better he doesn’t have that, or Spock would know exactly what Jim’s pain entails. On cue, he adds, “I understand that what Sybok does to his victims is a very personal matter. ...However, should you wish to discuss your current problem, please know that I am always willing to talk.” Always willing to talk. Not exactly how Jim would usually describe Spock. But Jim nods anyway, thankful.

He can’t tell Spock.

He can’t tell Spock that he wants Spock, that he respects Lieutenant Uhura, but she’ll never be what Jim could to Spock, do what he could, love Spock like he could. Like he does. How can he say that everything he does is for Spock? That he always takes Spock with him because he can’t stand to be apart, except maybe like today, where it’s too dangerous, and maybe the thought of Spock getting hurt is more than he can take, and he regrets that volcano so much, and maybe the reason he was so mad is because he was mostly mad at himself in the first place, and a little at Spock for giving up...

Jim’s always had such an easy time with relationships. It’s such an irony that the one person he wants for more than one night isn’t something he can have, and worse, something always tantalizingly right in his face. He didn’t even realize how bad the longing was until Sybok identified it. Of course they always had a connection. But it was something subtle that he didn’t understand and could handle, not an undeniable fire in the pit of his stomach and all over the bridge. He realizes belatedly that he’s staring at Spock like an idiot, knees still weak from the mind meld. He feels foolish.

He blurts, “Don’t talk to Sybok.” Because Sybok might say something and ruin everything.

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Someone will have to speak with him in order to ascertain the extent of the damage to Nimbus III.”

“Well, make sure whoever does it is supervised, and don’t let the glass down for a second. And don’t let it be you. He’ll... he’ll tell you things about me that aren’t...”

“Vulcans cannot lie.” Spock probably means to be reassuring, but it’s the opposite.

“No, they’ll be true.” Jim just doesn’t want Spock to hear them. Spock eyebrows knit together; he doesn’t understand.

“Captain, Let me assure you that no matter what Sybok made you feel, I will not think any less of you.”

Jim laughs humourlessly. He’s not sure about that. Spock’s hand is still on his knee, and this is getting too difficult. As much as he doesn’t want to, he stands up, and as Spock’s hand slips away, Jim intertwines their fingers, naturally and easily. He uses that hold to tug Spock off the couch, heading back for the doors. “You should get back to the bridge. I’ll just be a few minutes to... to clear my head.”

Spock’s frowning, but he follows. The doors are still locked, so they don’t automatically open. Spock turns around before Jim can override that. “Lieutenant Sulu is more than capable of running the bridge in my absence. Jim, I do mean it. It is my brother that did this to you. One of my people. If there is anything, anything at all that I can do to make it up to you, I will do so. As your first officer, it is my duty to do what I can to make you better. I will stay with you if you like.”

Jim sighs. Spock isn’t making this easy.

Then he asks, “Is it something to do with me?”

“What?” Jim’s head snaps up.

Spock looks aside. “I can only conclude from your desire for me to not speak to Sybok and your strange behaviour that—”

“Strange behaviour?” Jim scoffs. “Spock, I just got... just, give me a minute.”

“I apologize, Captain.” He continues to look at Jim for several seconds, wherein Jim fidgets and tries not to get sucked into those dark eyes, level on the surface but full of concern underneath, looking right into him. Every second that Spock looks at him, Jim feels like Spock’s reading his mind, getting closer to everything obvious, that strange line they’ve already skirted, somehow never crossing, but...

“Fuck,” Jim grunts. Just as Spock’s about to turn, Jim grabs him suddenly, shoving him back against the closed doors, stepping forward with one leg between Spock’s thighs. He slams their lips together, eyes closing and fists clenched in Spock’s blue tunic. Spock’s eyes go very wide, startled.

But Jim doesn’t pull away. He wants to, knows he should, but he can’t. His tongue runs along Spock’s tight, bowed lips, and Spock parts them gently. Jim’s tongue slips inside, and he tilts his head, nose brushing Spock’s. Spock’s tongue tentatively comes out to meet his, and Spock’s fingertips are now on his waist. Fuck Sybok. He was _wrong_. Spock’s kissing Jim back. He wasted so much _time..._

When he pulls back, he’s a little breathless, flushed from both arousal and embarrassment. Spock’s cheeks are greener than usual.

“It appears,” Spock says slowly, “That my time would be better spent talking with Lieutenant Uhura, rather than Sybok.”

Jim says bluntly, “I meant that.”

“The kiss?” Spock raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It wasn’t just... just Sybok messing with me—you’re going to talk to her? What does that mean? Shit, Spock, I’m sorry...”

“No, I am the one that should apologize; you are obviously in a very vulnerable state—”

“What? No, I just said I _meant it_.” Jim steps back, rolling his eyes, because of course Spock would be difficult right now. “That was part of what Sybok drew out of me, but it didn’t come out of thin air... I mean, come on, even you have to see that we have something...”

“I assumed you were straight.”

“You’re the one with a girlfriend.”

“Not for much longer,” Spock says bluntly, and he gives Jim’s shoulder a little push so that Jim moves back and gives him room to turn around. “Now please open the doors so I may take care of that.”

Jim, frozen solid in shock, says, “Computer, unlock doors.”

Spock nods curtly in thanks and walks out them, turning half a second later to say, “Please remain here, Captain. I believe you need a moment’s rest, and perhaps it would be best if I were to... be there for you, so to speak.”

Jim says, “Hurry back,” and steps away so the doors can close.


End file.
